


Long Time Passing

by Zerrah



Series: Too Late [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Captivity, Dark, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Spoilers, Spoilers for all books, Torture, What if Vodemort won?, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:21:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23748247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zerrah/pseuds/Zerrah
Summary: Ginny looked up to the stars, studied the contrast between deep space and pinpricks of light. “You were like a mirror I was running away from. My most terrifying memories and a darkness that was inside me the whole time.”What if, after Ginny began her sordid affair with the treacherous Severus Snape, Voldemort won?Takes place afterDeathly Hallows,with an alternate ending.
Relationships: Severus Snape/Ginny Weasley
Series: Too Late [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710757
Comments: 14
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tags regarding character death and rape reference events that happened off screen. Typical stuff if Voldemort had won instead of Harry. 
> 
> This is a "what if?" sequel to the events of the fic, 'Too Late,' but they can be read as separate stories.
> 
> Title is from the song, 'Where Have All the Flowers Gone,' my favorite version being the one by Johnny Rivers [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SOxErh1AvCA)
> 
> _Where have all the flowers gone?  
>  Long time passing  
> Where have all the flowers gone?  
> A long, long time ago  
> Where have all the flowers gone?  
> Young girls picked them, every one.  
> When will they ever learn?  
> When will they ever learn?_

The dynamic was cut-throat and unforgiving, rather like vermin trapped together in a tight space, Ginny concluded derisively. They scrambled for table scraps from their Master, a word of admiration here or a comment that was a dagger to their enemy there, and they were content. Smirking, cackling, scheming. This was the world in which they lived.

Snape was one of the few that acted like he was above their pettiness. Always wearing a cool mask, Ginny felt some relief that he never made himself an easy target in the company of other Death Eaters, although there was the problem of assassination attempts because he was such a close confidant of Voldemort. Ginny was not ashamed to admit that she always watched him taste his food first. Snape was the one who got them into this nightmare to begin with, after all. It if wasn’t for him, Harry might still be alive. 

Low light flickered from candles that adorned long, oak tabletops, making shadows dance on the faces of the evil men and women in that room. No longer concerned about consequences, they ate without masks, their hoods thrown back, identities bared for all to see.

Voldemort had won, so they had nothing to fear. Ginny pushed down the swell of bitterness that stung her nose, made her bite down so hard on her lip she tasted the coppery flavor of her blood. She was, in a way, one of them. The black dress and web-like lace bodice made her pale skin seem ghostly white, and she knew the contrast caused her hair to look brighter, like a flame. Snape preferred it down, strands making a portrait of her features and collarbone, so she always swept it up. Just to be contrary.

“You’re more like Lily than you realize,” he had muttered, but was contrite enough to look away when she glared at him.

She schooled her features in the company of Voldemort’s minions, as she had learned early on that they sniffed out weaknesses like the predators they were. One of the first gatherings Snape had brought her to had left her devastated and nearly broken. Only a month had passed since Harry’s death and Voldemort’s victory, and Bellatrix, one of the Lestrange boys, and another young Death Eater had gathered close to her and mocked her about his gruesome passing. How the Boy Who Lived had died screaming, torn limb from limb, his bones used as foundation for Voldemort’s new throne in Hogwarts.

“Did you know he called out your name when he died?” Bellatrix had laughed madly, and that was the final straw that caused Ginny to burst into tears. Eventually Snape was by her side, making cutting insults to her tormentors, but it had been too late. He wouldn’t let her come to another gathering for months.

And maybe the real reason those words had hurt so deeply was because she blamed herself for Harry’s death, just as much as she blamed Snape. Because she had laid on her back for Dumbledore’s murderer, had slept with the enemy as Harry and her brother had scrambled through the woods looking for a way to defeat the Dark Lord, had shared furtive glances and accepted roses from someone who, she found out later, had caused the death of Harry’s parents. And didn’t that make her guilty by association?

She heard a cough to her left, discreet, and a low voice that reached her ears alone: “You’re not eating.”

Ginny pushed around the meat and vegetable concoction with her fork. Being in the Great Hall conjured memories of pumpkin juice, pies, and a bountiful supply of food options. “I’m not hungry,” she replied, not bothering to keep her voice low. They received a couple of amused looks from Death Eaters at the table.

Snape made a noise of irritation but didn’t push the issue. Making a scene would leave him open to manipulations and attacks from nearly everyone there, even Voldemort himself.

Her stomach turned, and she swallowed. Ginny hadn’t lied when she admitted she wasn’t hungry. Just being in the presence of these monsters, while fascinating to observe the way they backstabbed each other, filled her with disgust, rage, and a simmering anxiety that caused her diaphragm to freeze. Her hand strayed to the glass of elderflower wine next her plate, fingers twirling around the cool stem, until she finally took a sip.

He was good at hiding, but after three years, Ginny could see through his masks…to an extent. Snape glanced once more at her plate, and his lips curled down in distaste. He wouldn’t look at her…all signs he was displeased. Not that she cared.

Having the dubious honor of being one of Voldemort’s most loyal underlings, Snape sat at the high table just a few seats down from the Dark Lord himself. Rather ironic, as Ginny knew he had hated his time as a teacher, and now he sat at the same table as he did years ago when Dumbledore was still alive.

Ginny wanted to leave, but walking away now would just draw attention to herself, and that was always dangerous. So she stayed, soaking up the wine until the edges of the room seemed to blur, and watched the men and women in this room. The only place she didn’t look was Voldemort himself.

Because he was oh so interested in her. Like a skeleton salaciously looking her up and down. Snape had never said anything, but Ginny understood her only protection, a flimsy barrier, was Snape’s involvement in Harry Potter’s death. Her family were traitors, after all. The glares sent her way told her most didn’t feel she should have the _honor_ of sitting at that table. Ginny drained her glass.

She didn’t want to know what Tom…no, _Voldemort_ …wanted with her.

The low murmurs that echoed in the room halted, and Ginny was pulled out of her reverie to see a familiar form dragged down the hall to the Head Table.

Her mask, smooth as glass, began to crack. “Pr…Professor?” No. It couldn’t be.

The man to the prisoner’s left gave an oily smile, his shoulder length dark hair reminding Ginny of Snape, perhaps a younger, disillusioned version. The shorter Death Eater to his right looked wizened, scars on his face, eyes flinty. His battered appearance for his age made Ginny conclude that he may be a werewolf.

“We finally got him. He put up a right fight.” The oily man smirked and pushed their prisoner forward, who sagged to his knees, head hanging like a doll. “Been hiding among muggles for more than a year. Charms made him nearly invisible.”

“I presume this is an _important_ captive if you’ve interrupted us during supper,” came the austere voice of Voldemort. While his words implied he was annoyed, the tone in his voice was curious, perhaps even intrigued. Most of the rebellion who sided with Dumbledore or Harry Potter had long been killed or enslaved.

The man nodded furiously. “We have Remus Lupin, in the flesh.” The room erupted into jeers. Ginny’s mouth dropped open, she drew in a breath but couldn’t release it. Her skin itched to come closer, but she was smart enough to stay where she was. “He hadn’t died like we all thought.”

Ginny’s fingers dug into her thighs, her nails dragging slowly until a trickle of blood made her skin slick. Talking in the room grew louder, and offers were made to kill her former professor, or torture him slowly, or torture him slowly to kill him. The noises stopped at once, and Ginny knew that Voldemort held up a hand to silence them.

“There are some inventive minds in this room.” He sounded amused. “But I think it would be best to put a quick end to anyone from the Order of the Phoenix. For their acts of betrayal, and to set an example of anyone who dare oppose me.”

Hurrahs of victory, stamping of feet and clapping. They thirsted for her Professor’s blood. Well…ex-professor. He hadn’t been Professor Lupin in a long time.

Her hand reached out to cover Snape’s knee, and squeezed. Snape immediately tensed. She so rarely touched him these days. She couldn’t speak, not when they were surrounded by snakes, but she tried to communicate everything through touch. _Please,_ she thought desperately, _pleasepleaseplease_ …

Snape cleared his throat. “My Lord…” He tilted his head to the side, managing to look both bored and repulsed. “While it would be terribly easy and satisfying to simply eliminate this traitor, he most likely knows the whereabouts of other Order members. With the right potions, we can extract secrets from him, perhaps find the location of all those who’ve hidden from you like cowards.”

Ginny’s insides froze. She snatched back her hand like he had given her frostbite.

He sneered. “I would also...revel in witnessing the undoing of one of my long-time enemies.” 

A dark chuckle. “Of course. I can always count on my most loyal vassals to think three steps ahead for me.” Then, in a dismissive tone, “bring him to Severus’s home. Make sure he’s properly fixed.”

‘Fixed’ was the Death Eater way of referring to a prisoner stripped of magic. Broken wand, charms to block and repress spells, a permanent locator charm. Despite Snape’s vague threats, Ginny relaxed. Professor Lupin was alive. He was safe, at least for now. The tension dissolved from her chest. 

She took even the small victories when she could. They were few and far between. 

“But first, some entertainment. When we’re done with him, he’ll be begging for his own death,” Voldemort said, his voice tinged with malicious amusement. “Severus?”

“Of course, my Lord,” Snape replied with a smirk.

Snape rose to his feet. His heavy chair scraped across the stone floor, the sound loud in the cavernous room. Ginny always looked away when these spectacles happened, but now she stared, transfixed. She felt as though ice were sliding down her spine. 

He was really going to do it. Her former Potions teacher was going to torture her former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Ginny couldn’t believe it.

Couldn’t he have resisted Voldemort’s request even a little? But Ginny could see in the smirk and glittering dark eyes that he was enjoying this. That he _wanted_ to hurt Lupin. 

She gripped a fork in her hand, thumbnail scraping across metal. _Traitor,_ she thought but couldn’t speak, at least not there. _Cowardly, backstabbing traitor!_

And here she thought maybe he was trying to protect Lupin, if only because Ginny wanted it. 

The two Death Eaters backed away as Snape descended upon Lupin. Many in the room leaned forward in anticipation, a few jeered and shouted to Snape in encouragement. He brandished his wand. 

“ _Crucio!_ ” he sneered. 

Lupin, who had not moved or even looked up during the entire exchange, began convulsing, his face contorted into a horrifying grimace. He groaned, long and low, the sound crescendoing into screams. Laughter and cheers mingled with his cries of agony, the sound echoing from the high ceilings.

The screaming ended abruptly, and Ginny sagged with relief, knowing that he had been released from the curse, at least temporarily. Snape circled the werewolf, who was gulping lungfuls of air as if he had almost drowned. When Lupin tried to raise his head, Snape pushed him back down with his foot.

“Stay,” Snape ordered as if he were talking to a dog, and several Death Eaters erupted into laughter. 

He dug his heel into Lupin’s shoulder, and Ginny could hear the crackle of bones as they ground together. Lupin groaned again. 

“The last surviving member of the Marauders. Dirty, weak, and at my feet. A fitting end,” Snape said silkily, and Ginny’s stomach turned. “And no better than what you deserve after everything you’ve done...and didn’t do.” He stepped back and flicked his wrist again. “ _Crucio_.”

Lupin writhed again, the screams coming immediately this time. Round after round of cruciatus, her former professor contorting in agonizing pain, and Ginny could only take so much. 

She shot to her feet. “Snape! Stop it! _Please stop!_ ” Few Death Eaters even glanced at her, and the room was filled with both Lupin’s screams and their cries for more. 

Snape either ignored or couldn’t hear her. He still had a disgustingly smug look that Ginny wanted to slap off his face. More flicks of his wand, more howls of suffering. Anxiety and turmoil filled her as she watched Lupin contort in pain. 

“I said _stop!_ ” Ginny slammed her wineglass to the ground and it shattered, shards flying. The noise died down, but she didn’t care. She had to get out of there. She bolted for the door, barely registering Snape’s cry for her to wait. 

She fought back tears. Dashing across the room, she had almost reached the exit when she felt claws grip her elbow, and she was spun around, thrown off-kilter. Bellatrix tugged her close, a manic smile on her face.

“Ginny is it?” she said slyly. “Ginevra. Where do you think you’re running off to, little mudblood-lover?”

Her eyes narrowed, and despite where they were, she was tempted to spit in the other woman’s face. “What do you want?”

Bellatrix laughed, looking around. “As if any of us need to explain a single thing to you. Part of a traitor family. How many of them are dead?” 

Ginny fumed, her head still spinning from watching the former Order member get tortured, but Bellatrix seemed to delight in her anger. She tilted her head back. “Careful, little Weasley. You may walk freely among us, but we all know your wand was confiscated. What are you going to do?”

Ginny was about to say something that would likely get her hexed, when she felt body heat come up behind her, and hands curl around her upper arms. She involuntarily squirmed. 

“She’s in the process of proving her loyalty. That should be any day now.” Ginny snorted, and the grip near her shoulders tightened. “As is her right, being a descendant from such an old, pure bloodline. Just as pure as the Blacks, with far less,” his voice dropped, conveying both amusement and disgust, “incest.”

Belltatrix’s eyes widened, then narrowed. Ginny couldn’t help but smirk. 

“Well then why haven’t you knocked the girl up yet if you value her bloodline so much?” she mocked. Her voice carried, and more heads were turning in their direction. Bellatrix poked her wand at Ginny, her smile wide and her eyes blazing. “Wouldn’t you like that, little Ginny? A baby Death Eater to repopulate the Weasley lineage?” 

That wasn’t the first time she had wondered with morbid uncertainty if she would be expected to have Snape’s child, but the reminder that she was likely the only Weasley left caused Ginny’s skin to burn with rage. She growled and lunged for Bellatrix, but strong arms held in place. 

“That’s enough,” the deep voice intoned with finality, and Ginny knew it was directed as much to her as it was at Bellatrix. He added quietly, “if you hurt her, I’ll make sure the Dark Lord has your head.” His hands squeezed her shoulders, and Ginny flinched. 

Bellatrix sneered, but she broke eye contact with Snape first, glancing over his shoulder. “You won’t be his favorite forever.” 

“Perhaps not,” he said again softly enough that the words couldn’t carry, “but if you damage anything of mine, you’ll never live to see it.” 

Ginny smiled, a real, genuine smile, when Bellatrix’s mouth dropped open, but Snape swiftly dragged her away. 

In the hallway where there were no eyes on them, Ginny burned to throw angry words his way about Lupin, but she was surprised and secretly pleased he had humiliated Bellatrix on her behalf. Instead, she said, “oh, am I yours now?”

He continued to lead her along by the elbow and refused to look at her. He cleared his throat. “To them, you are little more than chattel.” 

She squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s not what I asked, but yeah, I figured that out.” Digging in her heels, she wrestled her arm free from his grip. He stopped.

Her mind drifted, sinking into darkness, weighed down by Bellatrix's words and watching the torture of the last living Order member. Her mother and father were surely dead, but no one was certain about Charles and George. Ron had died with Harry, of course, along with most of her brothers...but surely one or two of them were still alive...somewhere out there, running, hiding, like she ought to be as well…

She was being shaken, and she blinked. “I’m not sure where you went, but we need to go back to the manor.” Snape eyed her critically, although his expression belied no emotions. 

Ginny wanted to fight Snape and put him in his place for what he had done, but was struck by the terrifying thought that he might take it out on Lupin later. She nodded and didn’t say anything. They found a room to floo back to Snape’s home. 

As soon as they stepped into the foyer, Ginny scrambled to the guest bedroom, and felt her stomach sink in disappointment when she found it dark and empty. 

“They wouldn’t leave a prisoner, a former Order of the Phoenix member no less, in a spare bedroom,” Snape remarked dryly. A pause, then, “you seem quite...eager to see the werewolf.” 

Despite his inflection of the word, ‘werewolf,’ he didn’t sound angry or full of hate. His words came out hesitant, curious. In Ginny’s excitement, she didn’t care to understand why. 

“Where is he then?”

“Probably the dungeons.” 

Ginny rushed down the spiral staircase, her dress fluttering in her wake, until she reached the heavy oak doors on the lowest level. Her heart in her throat, she tugged the door open with all her weight. 

Professor Lupin--no, _Remus_ \--sat in the corner of the cavernous, dark room. The light from the doorway was not enough, and Ginny longed for her wand to cast _l_ _umos_. He was slumped forward, tawny hair hiding his features. She took a step into the room. 

”Professor?”

He didn’t respond. Ginny bit her lip. 

“We shall move him to the study,” an imperious voice said behind Ginny, startling a gasp from her. How did he move so quickly? She had never seen Snape run or hurry in her life. “A...more comfortable location for me to interrogate him.

She glared at him, and he quirked an eyebrow in return. 

“You...you’re not going to hurt him badly, are you?” She hated how weak her voice sounded to her ears. But then, no matter how much trouble she caused Snape, most decisions were his alone to make. Her power in this new world was severely limited. _Two steps above Muggles, one step above Azkaban,_ Ginny thought bitterly. 

“Anything I do on the Dark Lord’s behalf is not your concern,” he admonished, and flicked his wand in Lupin’s direction. He levitated her former Dark Arts professor out of the room. She was surprised that Lupin didn’t even flinch, almost as if Snape were dragging around a corpse. 

Her stomach turned, and she looked away as Snape transported Lupin up the stairs. Her hostility towards Snape blazed under her skin, but what could she do? Antagonizing him wouldn’t make Lupin’s interrogation any easier. 

She lingered in the doorway, watching motes of dust float in the column of light cast into the dark room. These were the times when her thoughts turned black, the futility of her new life crashing over her head. She was sinking into the deep. She wanted to save others, but who would save her? 

After a few minutes, overcome with morbid curiosity, she walked up to the study. 

Snape had left Professor Lupin in one of the two chairs that flanked a low, round table with stacks of books. That surprised Ginny. Wasn’t he supposed to be careful about what he shared with Voldemort’s enemies? 

“Professor?”

No response. Lupin was slumped forward, his hair covering his eyes. His arms were rigid on the chair rests, but otherwise he looked asleep...or dead. 

“Lupin?” she tried. Licked her lips tentatively, then, “Remus?”

Again, nothing. She reached out, her fingers trembling, and pushed his matted brown hair away from his face. Lupin’s eyes were open, but they stared at nothing. They looked completely blank.

“R...Remus?” Her throat burned and eyes clouded up. Hesitant, she pushed his shoulder, then shook harder when there was no response. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and Ginny realized too late that both her hands were now jerking him almost violently. “Remus, what _happened_ to you? What’s _wrong_?”

She dropped her hands and stared, tears dripping to the floor. Lupin’s head hung to the side, with that empty, sightless gaze. 

“Merlin…” Ginny sank to the floor. What had they done to him? It was as if his soul had vacated his body. Perhaps a death would have been merciful. His mind had probably snapped from the torture he had been subjected to. Or was life on the run for former Order members truly so horrific? 

Pain clutched Ginny’s heart, and she couldn’t stop sobbing. Feeling like a child, she crawled into his lap.

“Professor Lupin, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry this happened to you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, and her tears soaked his shirt. And still, his body was like a marionette cut free from its strings. 

She had wanted to believe her missing family was out there free and maybe safe, even if they were running and hiding for their lives. Lupin’s mental state shattered that hope. 

“Your wailing could wake the dead,” a cold voice said behind her. 

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Not now, go away.” Her grip tightened. Her former Dark Arts professor smelled dirty and sweaty. He obviously hadn’t taken a bath in a while, but she didn’t care.

“I’ll need to administer a Calming Draught and Dreamless Sleep Potion. Perhaps a Replenishment Potion,” Snape noted in a clinical tone.

Ginny sniffed, her eyes blinking open slowly. “You’re not going to torture him again?”

“Not tonight.”

She reluctantly released Lupin, already resolving to try and talk Snape out of hurting him at a more opportune time. As she got to her feet, Snape was observing her with an unreadable expression. 

“I have some Dreamless Sleep for you as well. If you’ll take it this time.”

Ginny nodded. Her throat hurt and she wiped her nose on her collar. Maybe she would.

*****

She worried her lip. Tucked under the blankets in bed, her eyes fixated on the line of light from under the bedroom door. Her mind gravitated over and over back to Lupin. She remembered the old life, before so many people had died. Before Harry and Ron. 

An uncomfortable dread made her stomach clench, an odd contrast with the way her skin tingled with excitement and anticipation. She wanted to check on Lupin even though he was probably sleeping, because he was there. He was alive. Even though he had changed. 

Ginny had laid there for an indefinite amount of time, and finally decided to give up on sleep. Slipping on her black dress from the night before, she wandered out into the hallway. The manor was filled with strange contrasts between ornate structures and rather plain furniture. The home had belonged to a rich Muggle family before it was confiscated by Deatheaters. Ginny didn’t want to think about what had happened to them. 

Unsurprisingly, Snape was in the main hall, a small fireplace the only light in the room. Dumbledore’s painting hung above it; Snape would often talk to the former Headmaster late into the night, usually working his way through a bottle of Firewhiskey in the process. Ginny wondered why Voldemort had allowed Snape to keep it, although she had a feeling this was just another secret. 

Snape was sprawled out in his lounge chair, asleep. Ginny approached him cautiously. The low fire deepened shadows across his face, furrowed brows and hollow cheeks. His pronounced nose. He wasn’t a particularly handsome man, and the firelight highlighted his age. She had always found his features striking though, even had a tiny crush on him in fourth and fifth year. While her brothers had mocked him, she would sneak glances at him in class. Any approval for a successful potion felt like the greatest award she could achieve outside of winning at Quiddich. And then there was the Dark Mark...not many people, including adults, could understand her connection with Tom. 

Of course, everything had spiraled out of control her sixth year…and then Harry had died, and she was too shocked over Voldemort’s victory to put up much of a fight when Snape had pulled her to his side...

She glanced above the fireplace and noticed that Dumbledore was absent from his frame, then looked back to Snape’s prone form. It was strange to see him like this. Peaceful, and in a way, vulnerable. Harmless, but she knew he was anything but. 

Her mind drifted to those first stolen kisses when he was Headmaster. When the nightmare had really begun. Her relationship with Snape had been a dark, dirty secret, but she had truly believed that Harry would win in the end. That Snape’s allegiance to Voldemort would ultimately be pointless, because the dark wizard would fail.

Oh, how naive she had been. 

She reached for the half empty bottle of firewhiskey, an impulse to stall the dark spiral of her thoughts, but a hand grabbed her wrist.

“How rude of you. Reaching for what isn’t yours as if you’re entitled to it. But of course, not a surprise.” His velvet deep voice was calm and a little slurred, which meant he was probably drunk. His eyes were still shut. 

“Technically, nothing in this house is mine,” Ginny snorted. She used her weight to try and break free, but he wouldn’t release his grip on her wrist. 

“Yes,” he said softly. He pulled her close until she tipped into his lap. “Technically, everything in this house is mine.”

She waited for him to laugh or diffuse the comment with a sarcastic or biting joke, but he didn’t. His eyes remained closed though. 

“I’m not a thing, Snape,” she replied through gritted teeth, quelling the familiar burn of anger. Still, being this close to him, feeling the contours of his firm body along her side and leg, made her heart accelerate, and her thoughts slow down. She had stopped touching Snape, resisted all contact, after Harry’s brutal end. In a way, she was punishing both of them. 

“No.” He finally looked her in the eyes. “You are not.” Snape studied her hair, which she had let down for the night, and tucked a few strands behind her ear. “But I still feel that you are mine.” His hand dropped to her collarbone. “Mine to protect.” 

The anger slipped away, replaced with a turmoil of confusing emotions. She didn’t understand why her body still responded to his touch. Voldemort’s loyal spy.

She knocked his hand away. 

Ginny attempted to rise, but he wouldn’t let her go.

“I’m not your anything,” she spat, debating whether or not she should knee him. “Never. I would _never_ be with a man who caused the death of Harry and my own brothers! Who looks forward to torturing my former professor, a gentle, honorable man! Who works closely with Voldemort and actively helps him!”

With a final yank, her hand was free. She stumbled back.

Snape stared up at the ceiling, his greasy hair forming a mockery of a halo around his head. And then he laughed. 

Ginny stared in shock as he gave deep, full-bellied laughs. His legs kicked out, and he ran a hand through his hair. 

“What’s so funny?” Had he gone insane? 

“Everything,” he wheezed through his laughing fit. “I gave up everything…” A laugh turned into a sob.

His face contorted into a grimace, his eyes red, she couldn’t understand if he was laughing or crying. Maybe it was both. 

He took her hand, pulled her back in, enfolding her in an embrace. She couldn’t see his expression anymore. 

“I lost everything…” he whispered into the cusp of her ear. “Even you.”

“What do you even mean?” Ginny replied, her voice thick. Her fingers curled into his black garments, but she didn’t struggle away from his touch...yet. “You got _everything_ you wanted. Your master won, Harry was defeated, Muggles and Muggleborns are at a lower status than livestock, and you have more power than almost any other Death Eater. This is _exactly_ what you wanted!” 

“No, Ginvera,” he choked out. Ginny’s hair stood on end at the feel of hot liquid against her cheek. _Merlin, he really is crying!_ “No, you don’t understand. And why would you? I must show you.”

He pulled her chin so their eyes were aligned, and her eyes widened when she realized what he intended to do. A pressure at her temples, and then he was in. 

She recovered quickly. _Get OUT._

**_Please, Ginny. It’s too dangerous to speak this aloud because of the eavesdropping charms that are spread throughout the manor._ **Ginny froze, momentarily shocked that their privacy had been invaded, and that she probably been monitored all this time. She had suspected, of course, but it was another thing for Snape to confirm her fears. **_I was assisting Dumbledore as a double agent all this time. We were trying to help Harry fulfill the prophecy, so that the Dark Lord would finally be defeated._**

Ginny scowled. He had _killed_ Dumbbledore, and she was supposed to believe this? 

Snape’s embrace tightened almost imperceptibly. She realized he had read her thoughts. **_Albus was slowly dying from a curse. He had asked...begged...me to kill him, to ensure my perceived loyalty to the Dark Lord. He wanted Harry and myself to succeed._**

“Why should I ever believe you?” she cried. She was incredulous. 

_**Nevertheless, it is the truth.**_ Despite the confidence in that inner voice, Ginny sensed his surge of frustration. Images flashed in her mind, and she realized they came from Snape. A promise made to Narcissa Malfoy for Draco of all people, Dumbledore’s worried expression and wizened hand as he tried to pressure Snape into killing him— unsuccessfully, based on Snape’s resistance, a lie told to the Dark Lord of undying loyalty, a lie that felt like one of thousands, an image of Harry— 

Harry’s innocent face in her mind instilled panic, and Ginny pushed at his chest, attempting to wrestle free. “That’s ENOUGH. Why should I believe these are your memories? You could have just made this up.” 

Snape scowled in turn. **_And why would I bother doing that? If I’m so satisfied that I have everything I want, as you less than eloquently explained to me?_ **

Ginny paused, her eyes shifting left and right. Maybe he just wanted to trick her into believing he was good all along, so she would— 

_**Ah.**_ His lips twisted into a mockery of a smile, the emotions leaving a bitter residue in her mind. Ginny winced. **_Of course._** “I hope you realize that I could have forced your hand at any time, if that was ever what I truly wanted.” His breath ghosted on her cheek, and she smelled firewhiskey. “You have no idea the amount of _privilege_ you are afforded here. Some prisoners of war are treated worse than furniture.”

Ginny yanked herself free. She was expecting more resistance, so when he simply let her go, she fell to the floor. Her skin tingled, the emotions of anxiety and anger churning within her, making the room tilt. She tried to glare at him, but his eyes had slid shut, already, it seemed, disconnected from their conversation. 

“If… _if_ all if this is really true...prove it to me. Prove to me that you’re not really the monster that I think you are.” When he didn’t respond, her fingernails clawed into the rug. “Take Veritaserum or...or an Unbreakable Vow…”

Snape chuckled darkly. “Think carefully about what you’re asking of me. And what will happen to you, if the Dark Lord _ever_ doubts my loyalty?” He waved his hand around the room to the invisible spells that monitored them. 

She dragged herself to her feet, her hands forming fists by her side. “You can make it work. You always have for _him_.”

Snape gave her a long, penetrating stare. The black pools of his eyes felt unfathomably deep, flickering once over her shoulder to Dumbledore’s now empty portrait. 

His head tilted forward, such a small nod that she almost missed it. 

“Come with me.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow...I can't believe I finished posting this lol. 
> 
> This is probably the only fic I've written that didn't really need the smutty scene. But of course, I added it anyway.

The air misted from Ginny’s lips. She had her cloak, but regretted leaving her sweater behind before following Snape outside the manor. The sky above was splattered with stars, the nearby woods eerily silent. 

Ginny struggled to make Snape out against the dark countryside, as he was dressed all in black. He came to a stop before a battered shed. The door practically fell off when he tugged it open. 

Ginny gasped when Snape pulled something out of the shed. “My broom! I was wondering where that went. I thought maybe you destroyed it.” 

Rather than look offended, Snape nodded. “I was supposed to. All means of escape or magical execution were meant to be confiscated and disposed of, by orders of the Dark Lord.” 

Excitement bloomed in her stomach, causing her skin to prickle. This was the first evidence he’d offered her that he was telling the truth. He let her hold the broom, and she caressed the smooth surface. She held it to her heart.

“I…” she paused. “I had always wanted to continue with Quidditch. If everything had worked out differently.” She sighed.

Snape said nothing, but his lips twisted in a way that made her wonder if he might be sad for her. It was difficult to tell when he cloaked his true emotions behind vitrial and indifference, but after living with him for months, she was starting to see beneath the surface. 

Ginny dropped the broom and watched it float, shifting until it was level with the ground. “I don’t suppose you were giving me the chance to escape?” she asked with a quickened patter of her heart. Despite the night’s proclamation of innocence, he had never made any offer to let her go since Voldemort’s rise to power. 

He snorted. “You’d be dead within a year.” Ginny bristled, but before she could retort, he added, “you have a tracking charms and dark spells tied to you, Ginevra. Every single con—...prisoner assigned to a home has eventually been caught. And punished most severely, if not outright killed.” 

Her eyes widened, and the shiver that ran through her had nothing to do with the cold. “Well...it’s a good thing I never tried to escape.” 

A smirk came to Snape’s lips, before he hid it behind his ever present cool mask. “Indeed. Survive and make the most of ones circumstances. We’re more alike than you realize.” 

Anger coursed through her, and she stamped her foot. “Letting innocent people get murdered while kissing the Dark Lord’s ass is not like me at all!”

“That’s the _smart_ thing to do, Miss Weasley.” He seemed to slip into teacher mode with ease, his voice dripping venom. “How can you possibly help others if you’re running and hiding? Make the _most_ of your circumstances, even if you appear to align with the enemy. Some wars are fought and won from within.” 

Her mind chewed over his words, and Ginny felt herself deflate with an exhale, her shoulders slumping forward. She didn’t want Snape to be right, but _so many_ of her friends had died and, from what she had heard, most of the Order had been tortured, humiliated, eradicated. Perhaps it would be better to sabotage Vodemort’s control from within. Still, it _felt_ so wrong…

Slender, stained fingers held out a vial. Ginny looked up.

“The Veritaserum.” That penetrating stare again. Her throat was tight. 

She uncorked the bottle and sniffed. “It doesn’t smell like anything.”

Snape quirked an eyebrow. “It isn’t _supposed_ to, Mis— Ginevra. I believe the effects and consistencies are taught in sixth year.”

Ginny felt herself flush. “I was distracted.” 

A dark chuckle. “Indeed.”

She scowled at him. Wasn’t he the least bit repentant about sleeping with one of his students? She thrust the potion to him. “Take it.”

He pointed up. “Above prying eyes and ears.” 

Ginny nodded, finally understanding his intent. Watching Snape, with his billowing, many-layered robes mount the broom was almost comical. 

“You’re on backwards.” 

“That was my intent. We will need to face each other.”

Ginny slid onto the broom, kicking it up into the air. Snape took a small sip and then tucked the vial back under his robes. His eyes looked glassy, but it was difficult to see at night. 

Her heart was pounding, and despite the chill, she was warming up. Her hands gripped the broom. 

“First, I need to know if this works,” she said, her eyes narrowing in determination. “Tell me an embarrassing secret you would never want me to know!”

Snape scowled at her, looking affronted, but the words poured out of his mouth. “From the moment I confronted you about Alecto’s wand, I was fascinated by you, and masturbated to the thought of you almost every night.” He growled in frustration, and Ginny cringed in sympathetic embarrassment. 

“Of course, I had told myself over and over again throughout the years that I would never sleep with a student,” he added, and Ginny wondered if that was coming from the Veritaserum or a desire for damage control. “I...normally can control…” he trailed off. 

“Um, sorry, I wasn’t expecting...that.” He was looking everywhere but at her. She cleared her throat. “Yes. Now tell me this. Whose side are you on?”

“There is only one side now,” he said smoothly. “Really, Ginny. Your questions should be more clear.” 

“Oh, yeah.” She flushed with embarrassment. “I meant, what side were you on before Voldemort won?”

“I sided with the Order and worked as a spy for Dumbledore.”

“Did you betray Dumbledore?” she demanded.

“No.” Something shifted, and his gaze became intense, almost as if her were imploring her. “I never betrayed Albus. He was dying already when he asked me to kill him. Killing Albus solidified Voldemort’s confidence in me and ensured my rank among the Death Eaters.”

Ginny stared at him. She didn’t want to believe him, but he _had_ taken Veritaserum…

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “Are you working against Voldemort now?”

“Yes,” came the immediate reply. “I...there are no more allies, that I know of, that are alive, but I talk to Albus…” His expression became clouded, strands of hair falling in his face. He seemed lost.

“You mean, you talk to Dumbledore’s portrait?” Something swirled in her chest, and she gazed at him with pity. His late nights with a bottle of Firewhiskey near the fireplace made much more sense. But a portrait could never replace the wizard. “Is his advice as...helpful as when he was alive?”

“I’m not certain.” The voice was raspy and thick. “It’s all I have.”

Ginny stared at Snape in shock, and Snape looked anywhere but at her. The wind picked up around them, whipping red hair in front of her face, rustling Snape’s cloak. 

“You were one of us all along,” she whispered. Excitement and hope burned across her skin, but it was tempered with a burgeoning guilt. She had always thought him one of the bad guys, and hated him for what happened to Harry. 

He nodded slowly. “Yes. I’ve been attempting to find a way to kill the Dark Lord even now. The problem is that another Death Eater would easily replace him, and the infrastructure to keep them in power would remain intact.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Why did she have to sound so emotional, so weak?

“Because I did not know if he would use Legilimens on you, and I couldn’t afford to have any memories of my betrayal extracted from your mind. For now, I believe his arrogance has given him a false sense of security.” 

“Do you love me?” she blurted out. She hadn’t meant to ask that, and his gaze finally snapped back to meet her own. 

Barely above a whisper. “Yes.” 

Her breath stuttered. It was difficult to believe there would be any emotions between them beyond hostility after how she had treated him with near contempt over the last year. Now she knew he had been through so much. Her hand reached out, softly enclosing his grip on the broom. 

“Snape...Severus.” The chill of the wind forgotten, Ginny’s entire world became their connected hands. The warmth there, the smooth skin. Tears pooled down her cheeks. 

“You don’t have to do this alone anymore.” Her voice was firm, full of conviction. 

He stared at their joined hands. He didn’t move, but he felt his fists flex under her touch. “Before I...when Albus was still alive, he was the only person who knew my full secret and trusted me completely. Everything depended on his plan working…”

“What’s the plan now?”

Snape shook his head. “I’m not certain, Ginevra. I...want to keep you safe. The both of us safe.” 

She squeezed his hands. “This isn’t just about us. This is the world. There _are_ some remaining members of the Order out there, I just know it! And plenty of wizards and witches ready to fight.” One of her hands sought out the collar of his cloak, twining her fingers there. “Please…”

Tentatively, he cupped her face, and wiped away tears with his thumb. “You know the truth now from me. Tell me. Why were you drawn to me when I was Headmaster?” 

Ginny bit her lip. She was decidedly not cold anymore, his breath tickling her skin. “I’ve thought about it. At first I felt so confused. I thought my...interest, and feelings were wrong. But I always knew there was something that set me apart from the others. At least, it all started with Tom.” She shuddered at the memory, and licked her dry lips nervously. “Everything was innocent before him. He drew things to the surface that both intrigued me and horrified me. When Harry got rid of the diary, I buried all of it. And then you...”

Ginny looked up to the stars, studied the contrast between deep space and pinpricks of light. “You were like a mirror I was running away from. My most terrifying memories and a darkness that was inside me the whole time.” 

“And now?”

His eyelashes were thick this close, and she could see fine lines across his brow from years of bitterness and worry. “I won’t run anymore.” She leaned forward and kissed him.

His lips felt so soft against her own as she pressed gently against them. He was frozen under her touch, and at first she thought she had misread him, perhaps made a mistake. 

Shaky hands carded through her hair and gripped so hard she winced. 

“Ginevra,” he said in a heated whisper. His dark gaze was so intense it frightened her. “It is never wrong to embrace your shadows, your darkest desires even. As long as you make the right choice in the end.” 

He swiftly closed the gap between them, and she gasped into his kiss as he pulled her close. For one disorienting moment she feared falling off the broom, her hands dislodged, the spike of concern twining with passion burning bright. She peaked down, noting with relief that one strong arm stabilized them. He kept them safe.

He always kept her safe.

She let out throaty whimpers, too consumed to feel embarrassed. He released her lips to trail wet, hot kisses down her throat, and she arched into the touch. He sucked above her collarbone, nipping gently there. 

Snape paused for a moment, steamy breath across her chest distracting her. “Do you...can we take this back to my chambers?”

“Yes.” _Why is he even asking me?_ Then she remembered. Always keeping him at arms length, only tolerating brief, superficial touch. He had understood over the last year that she hadn’t wanted to be intimate, and he had respected that. 

He clutched her tightly then, pressing their hearts together. She felt the fast beat of his heart, as if it were trying to catch up with her own. He clung to her like a man deprived of a lifetime of human touch. And perhaps he had been. 

Ginny furrowed her brow as she remembered something. “Shouldn’t we wait until after the Veritaserum wears off?”

He let out a snort. “I’d rather not. Just try not to ask me any ridiculous questions that could get us both killed.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll do my best.”

*****

Ginny was on fire. Like being deprived of light for nearly a year now, the shadows her companions, to shining so bright her vision whited out. Each kiss notched up the intensity more, consuming her. She stumbled through the hallway, until she finally gave in and let Snape press her against the wall. They were like two flames burning into one. 

The clock down the hallway ticked in loud precision, the only sound filling the corridors and her mind. Each second grew more intense. Snape’s hand on her breast, another up her dress. Her fingers worked their way past his many-layered robes until she was scratching at skin. Ginny was lifted, propped against the wall, and one leg reflexively hooked around his hip. 

She almost didn’t register the discreet cough, but definitely heard, “Severus? And...Ginny _Weasley?_ ” The latter said incredulously. 

Snape wretched himself away from her, gasping deeply. He ran a hand through his greasy hair and shifted, looking unsettled. “Remus.”

She was still slightly breathless, but Ginny couldn’t help but stare. Lupin was actually standing, observing them, _animated._ He looked worn and too thin, aged ten years even though the war had ended only a year before, and his eyes seemed flat, empty of their prior spark. But he was very much alive. 

“Professor Lupin!” She cried, and practically ran him over in a giant hug. Her chest was bursting with excitement and joy. She squeezed hard, and heard an uncomfortable, ‘oof!’ 

Lupin froze, but eventually she felt his hand press against her back. In contrast to how his personality radiated warmth when he was a teacher, his movements were now stiff and rather awkward. “It’s good to see you as well, Ginny,” he said softly. 

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. “I’m...so many of the Order are dead,” she said thickly. “You really survived.” 

He began to slowly stroke her back. “I did.” 

“How?”

Lupin’s hand stilled. Ignoring her question, he said, “what was going on here?”

“Oh. Um…” Ginny pulled away and glanced at Snape, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. He had always been a secret she had kept from her friends and family. Snape was glowering at the two of them with thinned lips, which caused her to blink in surprise. He couldn’t possibly be jealous, could he? 

“We’re...well, I’m Snape’s…” She took a step back, looking to Snape for help, but he was glaring at Lupin. “We’re together.”

“I see.” Ginny felt the temperature of the corridor plummet, and Lupin took a menacing step forward. “I always gave you the benefit of the doubt, Severus. I thought your true loyalties were always with the Order, no matter what others said about you.” He gestured to Ginny, a scowl forming on his usually gentle features. “But taking one of your own, barely legal students as a sexual consort? Between this and Dumbledore, your actions are unforgivable.” 

“Sexual consort? Pr—, I mean Lupin. Remus?” What was she supposed to call him now that she was an adult and Hogwarts didn’t exist anymore? “I don’t think you understand what’s happening…” 

“No, Ginny, it’s you who doesn’t understand,” he said in that same deadly calm voice. “Any wizard or witch aligned to the Order before the war has been ordered by You-Know-Who to be killed, held in Azkaban, or used for...other purposes.”

Ginny stared at him, several things coming together in her mind with an unnerving click. “Other purposes? You mean…”

“She didn’t know, Lupin,” Snape sneered, crossing his arms imperiously. “But do lecture us on the moral imperative that I apparently lack. For old times’ sake.”

The corner’s of Lupin’s lips tilted up, but hazel eyes remained flinty. “Of course. For Ginny.” He turned to her. “Why do you think he brought you here?”

Ginny bit her lip. “Professor...there’s a lot that I haven’t told my friends, or even my family...I…”

Lupin shook his head. Her eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the bands of muscle along his throat, as he was too thin. “This isn’t your fault. Don’t blame yourself for anything that happened under You-Know-Who’s reign.” 

She heard a snort behind her. Snape was shifting, his features stormy, and Ginny suddenly felt like she was back in 1st year getting verbally torn to shreds after a failed potion. “Does she look unhealthy to you? Traumatized? Abused? I’ve kept her _safe, mutt._ Far more than you could ever have done.” 

Lupin’s eyes narrowed. “And at what cost, I can’t help but wonder, did you exchange for her safety?” He glanced back at Ginny. “You-Know-Who had ordered all pureblood traitors during the war to be used to propagate the bloodlines. Truly, though, they are little more than sexual consorts, a step above slaves.” 

Ginny’s limbs felt heavy. She had seen a few girls from Hogwarts like Angelina Johnson and Lavender Brown paired with Death Eaters, but they had looked beaten down. Angelina Johnson had been covered in scratches and bruises, and Lavender eyes darted across the room like a terrified rabbit. Neither of them would acknowledge Ginny even though they had clearly recognized her.

It all made sense. Ginny’s stomach turned, and she swallowed down the urge to vomit. 

Snape stalked over to Lupin and loomed over the other man. “You’ve made quite some assumptions here, _wolf_ ,” he hissed. “I think you should be grateful that you’re still al—”

A blur, then Lupin had Snape by his neck against the wall, a few inches off the ground. Ginny inhaled sharply. Lupin looked starved and sickly, how was he able to stand, let alone hold a grown man by his throat without even flinching? She hadn’t realized that lycanthropy gave so much strength to the typically mild-mannered Order member. Snape gasped for air, his face quickly turning a shade of purple.

“Lupin, stop!” She cried, grabbing one of his arms. It was like trying to budge goblin-forged iron. “Please!”

“Saved your...life…. _mutt_ ” Snape managed to gasp as he clawed at Lupin’s fists. “Potions…”

Ginny wrapped her arms around Lupin’s chest from behind, digging her heels into the stone floor in an attempt to dislodge him, to no avail. “Professor, you wouldn’t move or speak when you first came here, he helped you!”

He didn’t seem to hear her, and Ginny realized that the same dead look was in his eyes, even though he was animated. Panic that made her hair stand on ends transformed to a burgeoning fury. She let him go and shifted to the side.

“Why won’t you _listen?_ ” she cried, and slapped Lupin as hard as she could across his face. 

Lupin’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, seemingly incredulous. He dropped Snape, who fell to the ground, wheezing for air. 

“Did you just hit me?” His hand came to his cheek, as if he were momentarily lost. “I was trying to help, Ginny…”

Ginny growled in frustration. If only there weren’t any stupid listening charms, she could tell him the whole truth! “Well, you’re _not_ helping! Just sit _down!_ ”

Lupin staggered back, as if in a daze, and collapsed into a cushy chair. Snape stumbled to his feet, rubbing his neck and clutching his wand.

“You’re lucky I didn’t remove any valued body parts with a hex,” he snarled, looking Lupin up and down. He brushed dust off his cloak. 

Her rage gone as quickly as it had appeared, Ginny tentatively walked to where Lupin was sitting and crouched by the chair. “Lupin...Remus. I’ll tell you as much as I can. Just please don’t attack Snape again.” 

Lupin didn’t respond, but his throat bobbed. 

“Thank you for trying to protect me. The truth is...” She took a deep breath, her stomach already burning with something like shame or guilt. “Snape and I have been in a relationship for a while.” Her fingers curled into the arm of the chair, digging into the garish green fabric. “I went with him willingly, and he’s never...forced anything on me. Or hurt me at all.” 

Lupin’s eyelids slid shut. His face formed a grimace, and his shoulders slumped. “Ginny,” he rasped. “That...I’m relieved that nothing bad happened to you.” His hand sought at hers, and she let him. “Molly…” he let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Molly would kill me if she knew I let anyone go free who harmed you or any of her children. Or Harry’s…” He blinked, seemingly uncertain of Ginny’s relationship with Harry after her revelation. 

“And Severus,” he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin, mustering as much dignity as he could despite his tattered robes and wasted figured. “I...apologize for any assumptions I made. It seems that you’ve really been protecting Ginny all along. You didn’t have to, even though it’s the right thing to do.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “How flattering, Lupin. I’ll be able to take this high praise to my grave now. Thank Merlin.”

Lupin chuckled, but it sounded hollow. He squeezed Ginny’s hand and his head leaned forward. “I...haven’t been able to protect anyone for a long time.”

At the mention of her mother, questions swarmed Ginny’s mind with a desire so bright it burned her chest. But she couldn’t ask in this house, and taking a prisoner outside would look suspicious. Instead, she allowed her head to fall against his chest, and hugged him. 

“It will get better, I promised,” she whispered. 

“Ah...and Ginny?”

“Yes?”

Lupin gave her a sheepish smile. “Do you have any chocolate?”

*****

The rest of the evening progressed as well as Ginny expected. Snape never sat down, hovering stiffly by the door with his arms crossed, speaking in short, sometimes scathing sentences. Lupin, seemingly oblivious to Snape's waspish attitude, or at least numbed to it after years of being on the receiving end, kept up the conversation in his gentle way, his voice like warm honey to Ginny’s ears. Still, the dark circles under his eyes and his emaciated frame made the chair seem like the only thing keeping him from collapsing to the ground. Ginny tried to stay engaged, but worried thoughts raced through her mind. Would Snape still be required to torture Lupin, even for appearance’s sake? Would they be punished for being too kind to him? Did Lupin know anything about the status of her family members? Small fists formed in her lap as she tried to hold herself back from asking about them. Lupin glanced down at her hands, but didn’t comment on her behavior. 

“Stay here, Lupin,” Snape interjected after about an hour of small talk, which judging from Snape’s sullen expression, was quite the painful experience for him. “I need to check on a potion. Eventually, you will need to go back downstairs. You’re a high profile prisoner, and the Dark Lord will likely send Death Eaters to check in on you periodically.” 

Lupin nodded, his amber eyes guarded, and Snape swept out of the room. 

The silence that stretched out was palpable, until Lupin sliced through it by clearing his throat. 

“Ginny,” he said slowly. “I just want to check again, now that he’s gone. Is this truly...you said you were with him before?”

She sighed. “Yes, we shared...something before Voldemort won.”

Lupin shook his head. The lines in his face stood out, and she wondered if it was the lycanthropy or the nightmarish reality they all shared that had stolen his vitality. “You were so young. You were still a Hogwart’s student, weren’t you?” 

“...yes.”

His hand slammed down on the arm of the chair, causing Ginny to jolt in surprise. “That’s still wrong. He was your teacher— “

“Headmaster,” Ginny corrected.

“Headmaster,” Lupin said with a grave expression. “You’re so much younger than Severus. The man is old enough to be your father.”

She frowned. “Wasn’t Tonks a lot younger than you?” 

Lupin blinked, but shook his head again. “Tonks wasn’t my student, and she was already in her twenties when we met. And Severus…” He stared at her. “Severus had a troubled youth. Even when Albus trusted him implicitly, he could be a difficult man.” 

She snorted. “That hasn’t changed.” 

“I just want to know that you’re safe, that you were safe, and that he didn’t take advantage.” Lupin shifted, his lips parting as he seemed to choose his words carefully. “How did the two of you...begin your involvement?”

Ginny stared at her lap, covered with black silk that her family would never have been able to afford, wealth won from the suffering of innocents. “That’s not really important anymore, is it? What matters now is the way forward.” 

“Ginny…” 

“There are...parts of me that only Snape understands. The only one who ever did.” Memories surfaced, the diary calling to her in the seductive voice of a young man, days and nights that blurred together, when she wasn’t able to control her body. Goosebumps spread across the back of Ginny’s neck, down her shoulders. 

Lupin’s chair creaked as he shifted. “Perhaps...I understand more than you know.”

Ginny looked up in surprise, and Lupin pinned her with a penetrating stare. 

“You’ve been through a lot. We all have.” His gaze traveled down, taking in her body in almost clinical appraisal, and Ginny fought the urge to blush. “You’re an attractive witch, so I know why Severus would be interested in you. Objectively speaking, Severus is not; at least, not in the traditional sense. But there’s something about him, isn’t there?” Lupin chuckled softly. “Someone who is no stranger to dark magic, who embraces their anger and pain rather than overcoming them with courage or valor.”

He leaned forward, and Ginny froze, her hands refusing to uncurl from their bitter grip. “I understand, Ginny Weasley, because I have some darkness in me, too.”

Lupin tugged his robe to the side, and she saw the angry, gnarled scar across his shoulder. It was raised and paler than his normal skin. She gasped. 

Eventually, he dropped his hand, his robe sliding in place back over the scar. “I tried to be normal for a long time. I did everything I could to appease my friends, tried my best to hold a job even when the prejudices against werewolves thwarted most opportunities, and even settled down and had a wife and child.” His voice grew thick and shook a little when he mentioned Teddy, but he went on. “But the truth, Ginny, is that dark magic is very much a part of me in the curse that is Lycanthropy. There’s something different that sets me apart from ‘normal’ wizards and witches.”

He frowned, eyes unfocused as if lost in thought. “I’ve always sensed something different about you, Ginny, even back when you were one of my students. I could smell it. You’re not a dark creature like me, or a practitioner of the dark arts like Severus and the other Death Eaters, but you stood out among your peers. I’m not sure what it is...but I understand you more than you realize.”

Her eyes widened, and her heart pounded in her ears. “Tom...the diary…”

Lupin’s expression darkened, and he looked sad. “Oh yes. I do remember something about one of the Horcrux’s falling into your hands. I’m terribly sorry that happened to you, Ginny.”

She stumbled to his side, crouching by his chair. Unable to stand it anymore, she asked, “please Lupin...are any of them…?” She tried to channel the thoughts into his mind even though she didn’t know Legilimency, begging him to hear her. _Are any of my family alive and safe?_

He looked down at her, his hand running down her hair in a soothing way. He nodded once. Hot tears fell down her cheek. Her hands tightened around the hem of his robe and her head fell to his thigh. 

“I’m so sorry,” Ginny sobbed. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when Harry and R-ron…” she choked on her brother’s name, “when they were killed…”

Lupin shushed her, continuing to stroke her hair. “Ginny,” he admonished, “it’s not your fault.”

She couldn’t stop crying. Knowing that even one member of her family was alive and free filled her with joy but also crushed her with guilt. Why couldn’t she have done more to protect them all? 

His voice was so low she could barely hear him when he said, “There is something you could—” but then his hand stilled, and he pulled away moments before the door swung open. 

Snape came into the room, and Ginny stood abruptly, wiping her cheeks on the sleeves of her dress. His eyes widened, then narrowed, his expression swiftly turned furious. 

“What the hell happened here, _wolf?_ ” he spat. “I never gave you permission to touch her! It seems you've already forgotten you're a prisoner," he added with a sneer. "Maybe we should begin your interrogation _now._ ” Snape pulled out his wand. 

Lupin paled. “Severus…”

“No, _don’t!_ ” Ginny cried. She lunged, grabbing Snape’s wrist and wand. He stumbled back, and Ginny knew it was only the element of surprise that helped her. He was much stronger than he looked under all those layers of clothing. 

“Ginevra, let go!” he hissed. 

“You can’t! He didn’t make me cry, I promise,” she said desperately. “Don’t hurt him, please!”

He sneered, gaze moving back and forth between Ginny and Lupin suspiciously. _Merlin, he really is jealous!_ she realized with amazement. If his feelings were this strong, had she really been holding more power in the relationship than she realized? 

Her mind reeling from this information, she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his own, her eyes sliding shut. 

He didn’t respond at first, his lips cool, and Ginny felt like she was kissing a statue. But eventually his hand moved, and she was terrified that he would try to hex Lupin. Screams of Cruciatus victims echoed in her mind from Death Eater gatherings; Voldemort enjoyed dinner with a show. Instead, he wrapped that arm around her upper back, the other hand clasping right above her elbow. 

His lips molded against her own until he slowly pulled away, seemingly reluctant. They were so close she felt his warm breath on her nose. 

“That was very...manipulative of you,” he said huskily.

“Maybe I should have been sorted into Slytherin,” she replied, and he laughed deeply before pulling her into another kiss. 

*****

They barely made it to Snape’s chambers before he banished her clothing and entered her, cupping her breasts so that her back was pressed against his chest as he plundered into her while they were still standing. Her toes curled into the cold, stone floor, and she moaned helplessly, squirming as he pinched and rubbed her nipples. Ginny’s fingers grabbed his wrists, her back arched, and she came only a minute later. Fluid trickled down, splattering to the ground. He held still as her inner walls spasmed around him. Their heavy breath was loud in the cavernous room.

“I don’t want to see you alone with him again.” Snape gave a small pump, and Ginny gasped, still too sensitive. His hand caressed down, groping the soft skin of her inner thigh. “I...I can’t let you go, Ginevra…”

Ginny bit her lip. Sparks burst from her core, up to her scalp and down to her toes. Wasn’t he the one who left her alone with Lupin? Instead she said, “You can’t make me do anything.”

Snape growled, then partially lifted her and draped her over the edge of the bed. Face down, Ginny breathed in his scent, dragon’s blood herb, and a combination of others she couldn’t identify. She hadn’t realized until that moment how much she missed it. 

His robes brushed the back of her legs as he began to pound into her. The pleasure of being stretched after more than a year of abstinence was too much. The bed rocked, and Ginny let out a soft whimper as she came a second time. 

“I could make you if I really wanted to, Ginevra,” his replied, his voice a throaty whisper. Thumbs massaged their way up Ginny’s spine, and her vision whited out, the sensations leaving her speechless. “I could, but I won’t.” 

Ginny smiled, her skin hot, curving her low back to meet him as his pumps became faster. Large hands slid down, curling around her hips, up her ribcage to settle over each breast. He lifted her up, her weight now bearing back onto his cock. He squeezed, fingers splayed close to her nipples, and she whimpered. 

Ginny hung in limbo, and he paused, lifting her higher to place a sloppy kiss at the top of her spine. 

Snape moaned, now still. His hot cock throbbed inside her as she spasmed around him. “I never want to leave. I want to stay with you, right here,” he gave a small pump, “forever.” 

She tugged at his hands, squirming in desperation. “Don’t stop! Please! Snape,” she gave a breathy sigh, and acquiesced, whispering, “Severus.” 

He sighed with obvious pleasure at hearing her speak his name, nibbling at the back of her ear, and held one arm around her waist. This time he plunged into her, the illicit, wet slap filling the room until he came with a groan. He dragged a finger around her clit slowly until she cried out, liquid squirting around him. That was the first time she could remember coming three times in a row like that. 

“So slick and wet for me,” he groaned. “Ginevra.” 

She felt his member pulse as he came inside her.

*****

Ginny knew a secret that she had never told Severus. 

Tucked away in his closet, in an old, muggle book that was yellowed with age, were pictures. Deep in the night, she was struck with an overpowering urge to revisit them, and she threw on Snape’s oversized shirt and went to that book, her fingers tracing the words emblazoned on its thick cover. The book was _Sense and Sensibility;_ as Snape had never shown any interest in romance, his library filled with potions articles and spellwork manuals, Ginny had always suspected this book had belonged to his mother. He never talked about her, and now that she realized he wasn’t a heartless villain, she wondered why. 

But that wasn’t what pulled Ginny to this relic of Snape’s history. She thumbed through the pages, and two pictures fell out. Black, soft fabric rustled against her skin, as she scooped up the pictures and set the book down on the floor. 

One was an image of a short, auburn haired girl holding hands with Snape when he looked to be around eight or nine years old. Ginny almost didn't recognize him the first time she saw this image, but the scowl and large nose were distinct enough that she figured it out. He wore dark breachers and actually had a smile on his face. The girl was beaming, looking beautiful in a flowy white dress. The other picture was grainy with age, but featured the auburn haired girl older, on the cusp of adulthood, wearing Gryffindor robes with four other boys who Ginny easily recognized as Black, Lupin, Pettigrew, and Harry’s father. They had shockingly innocent and light-hearted expressions and were bundled together in a hug. James looked almost exactly like his son, but his mannerism in the image, one arm flung over the girl’s shoulder, smirking into the camera, made him seem confident on the verge of arrogance. Both pictures were frozen, split seconds in a time of innocence, before the wars. Muggle pictures. 

Ginny stared at Snape. His eyes were dark and haunted despite his smile. She dragged her thumb over his youthful face. The girl with her bright aura seemed to transcend the forest in the background, filled with green shadows, while Snape looked like he was about to be swallowed up. She couldn’t help the pang of jealousy, however, at their intertwined fingers, and the genuine happiness of his expression that he had never shown Ginny. 

And Harry’s father was embracing the girl in the other picture. Which meant…

“How long have you known?”

His voice contained no anger or malice, which surprised Ginny. She had invaded his privacy, and he had always been a reserved man. The closet was now crowded, and Ginny felt his heat against her back. 

“I found them shortly after we moved into this home,” Ginny said slowly, without looking up. “I was trying to learn as much as I could about you, so that I could eventually escape with enough information to help whoever was left of the resistance defeat you. Back when I still thought there was a resistance.” 

He was quiet for a long moment. Then, “I couldn’t never bring myself to throw them away.” 

“Even this one?” Ginny held up the picture with the marauders. “I thought you hated them.”

“I did. But those are the only remaining pictures I have of...her.”

Something shifted in Ginny’s chest, but wasn’t sure what the feelings meant. “She was very beautiful.” 

Snape grunted, but otherwise didn’t respond. 

“And Harry’s father...they look alike. I understand…” _I understand now why you hated Harry,_ she wanted to say, but then thought better of it. 

He cleared his throat. “He took after James, but his eyes…they were Lily’s.”

Ginny stared at the pictures, but they had been taken at too much of a distance to make out Lily’s eyes. She did remember that Harry’s were green.

“They look so happy and free,” she whispered. “I hate that I feel jealous of them, but I am.”

“Ginevra…” He hesitated another moment, but then wrapped his arms around her shoulders. His pale arms stood out sharply against her black shirt. “I will do everything in my power to…” He trailed off, but she understood what he couldn’t say aloud. 

“Maybe you’re wrong,” she said quietly. “What if this is it, and our best memories are behind us?”

The room was silent for a long time. Finally, Snape said, “perhaps that is true. But there are two wizards in these pictures that lived, that hadn’t given up. You shouldn’t either, Ginevra. You’ve never been alone, and there are people counting on you.” 

Her head fell back. She felt safe in this dark closet with Snape. She held the pictures, Snape’s history, to her heart. 

“I’m sorry for ever doubting you.” The words felt thick in her mouth. “I’m here for you.” 

He held her tightly, and she heard him swallow. “You are more precious to me than any picture, Ginny.”

She pressed her lips against the image of the troubled boy, wishing she could banish the shadows in his eyes. “So are you, Severus.”

Eventually, Ginny asked, “what now?”

His embrace tightened, and his voice took on that authoritative tone she remembered from school and Order meetings, instilling her with hope. “This time, we win.”


End file.
